


It's Never Easy

by Just_playing_along



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy starts out rude, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Literally a lot of tropes, Rating May Change, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Vacations, supportive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29172606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_playing_along/pseuds/Just_playing_along
Summary: He realized that he had been fighting with someone he knew next to nothing about, but maybe that's how she wanted to keep it. When Clarke and Bellamy decide to become "friends", will they be able to leave it there or will their tenuous friendship turn into secret hookups and the best connection he's ever had.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. About Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters. I guess JRoth does, but in my opinion he should lose custody.

Clarke didn’t know how she got to this point. Crying in a shitty bar bathroom just because her best friend’s brother didn’t know how to have a civil conversation was not the standard that she tried to hold herself to. It had been a rough week, she was about to get her period, and not an hour ago her mom had blasted her with a bombshell, so she was trying to give herself a break. 

“ _What? The princess can’t wait in line for her drink?_ ” He had taunted her after she stepped in front of him at the bar. Yes, she could wait for her drink. Standing in front on handsy Finn Collins, however, was something that she could not put herself through. It didn’t matter how much of a dick Bellamy was, she knew he wouldn’t grope her or take a picture up her skirt. So, she stepped in front of him, fully intent on allowing him to order first and maybe even paying for his drink if they ordered together. 

Before she got to respond to his comment, explain herself, or show him who had been behind her, he had barreled on. _“I’m surprised you even came to this place. You know they don’t valet park here? I didn’t think you were capable of going anywhere without a private car.”_

She had started tearing up out of frustration before she could stop herself and decided to bolt instead of continuing to get ridiculed. She at least saw a flicker of panic in his eyes before she took off. 

She looked at herself in the mirror. “Get a grip Griffin,” she mumbled, “It wasn’t even that mean.”

Filling her hands with cold water and splashing her face, she began to calm down. At the same moment, a furious Octavia stormed into the small women’s room. “I am going to KILL him!”

She rushed over and pulled Clarke to her, hugging her tight. That was one of the things Clarke loved about Octavia. As fierce as she was, rough and ready to fight, she showed affection the same way; always hugging like it was the last time she would get to. 

“I’m okay, O,” Clarke told her, gently pulling out of her grip. 

“Honey, you’re crying. In a disgusting, filthy bar bathroom, you’re crying.”

Clarke sighed. She knew it looked bad. Typically, she would never even use this bathroom, let alone spend extra time crying and hanging out to calm down. “It’s just been a hard week, you know? I’m tired, stressed, PMSing, and all I wanted to do was get away from Finn so I didn’t get my ass felt up in a crowd of people.”

“And Bell treated you like a dick,” Octavia nodded in understanding, wiping the remaining tears off of Clarke’s face. “What do you say we go home? Leave all the boys here, and you and me can veg out with a pint of ice cream and reruns of the office.”

Clarke chuckled, “It’s okay. I know you wanted to come out tonight. I can call an Uber and you can have a good time.”

“A good time without you? Please,” she scoffed, “I’d have a much better time leaving and making Bellamy feel like the biggest jerk in existence. Then at least I can guilt him into cooking us dinner.”

Clarke smiled and nodded, allowing herself to be pulled from the bathroom into the loud, crowded bar. Throngs of people were filling the floor and they had to push through to the table they were originally sitting at. 

“Hey, asshole,” Octavia called to Bellamy while Clarke opted to keeping pushing to the doors. “Clarke and I are leaving, in case you cared to know that you ruined both of our nights.”

Bellamy looked incredulously at Octavia, “Ruined the night? Me? Just because Clarke never learned how to wait her turn behind the common folk, doesn’t mean-“

“Maybe if you would’ve asked her, you would’ve learned that she didn’t feel like Finn Collins’ boner ‘accidently’ sticking its way up her ass,” Octavia cut him off. “Honestly, Bellamy, you need to get over whatever issues you have and just be a fucking grown up for once.” 

She didn’t give him a chance to finish before she stalked off to meet Clarke at the doors. He looked around the bar and realized that Finn was there, and he was eyeing the two of them in a way that made Bellamy’s skin crawl. Even if one of the women he was looking at wasn’t his little sister, Bellamy knew the guy was bad news. Clarke and Octavia left the bar together and Bellamy’s protective sirens started going off when he saw Finn start to stumble for the door as well. 

He finished his drink and got up, glancing at his other friends that were laughing loudly in conversation. Following him inconspicuously out the door, he saw Finn glancing around and looking at the alley around the building. He knew that Clarke and Octavia lived to far to walk, and that they were probably already in O’s car, on their way home. “Looking for anyone, Collins?” he asked in a deep tone. 

Finn chuckled, “You don’t have to get jealous Blake. Its not my fault if you’re not getting any. Hell, I might even get a two for one special. A little brunette, blonde swirl.” 

Bellamy felt his hand tense up unconsciously. “They don’t want to give you anything Collins. I think you’d be smart to back off.”

Shrugging, Finn spoke just enough that Bellamy could start to hear a slur in his words, “’s’not my fault if little Clarkie can’t get enough. I know she wants anything I give her. Maybe I should stop by their place, she’s probably waiting for me right n-“

Bellamy swung before he realized it, knocking Finn on the ground and struggling to get up. “If I hear that you were by their place, if it gets back to me that you were anywhere near either one of them, I will personally find you, beat the shit out of you, and make sure that you can never put that dick of yours near anything again,” Bellamy finished in a seething tone. He had heard that Clarke had been stupid enough to sleep with the guy her freshman year, but Finn showing up to their apartment, potentially putting either of them in danger is something that Bellamy would not stand for. 

He went back into the bar and texted Octavia. _Lock your doors when you get home- deadbolt too. Text me if you need me. I’ll apologize to Clarke._

Bellamy sat down at the table again, not feeling like another drink. Monty and Jasper were cackling about some experiment gone wrong in their class this week and Miller and Murphy were arguing over which one of them would survive longer in the wilderness. Bellamy tuned both conversations out and looked around the bar.

It wasn’t that he disliked Clarke. She had always been a good friend to O. After getting assigned to each other as roommates freshman year, Bellamy had kept tabs on Clarke to make sure she wouldn’t be a bad influence on his little sister. It seemed to him, though, that Octavia was the one that dragged Clarke out on Friday nights and wanted to go to most of the college parties. Clarke had a good head on her shoulders and rarely drank more than a beer or two anywhere they went. He noticed that she always seemed to be watching out for O, which he appreciated. But it was that head on her shoulders that got under his skin at every turn. How she held it up so high, like nothing could tough her. The way she seemed to look down her nose at every person she met even though she was at least 6 inches shorter. When she met him, she was shocked that he was “still” in college even though he was 4 years older than his freshman sister. That head irked him to no end, and he had made it his mission to knock that invisible crown off her head. 

He never meant to be outright mean to her, he just wanted to give her a taste of the real world so that she would realize how good she had it. He had never made her cry until tonight. He didn’t think she was capable of it until he saw tears start coming down her face as she ran to the restrooms. Maybe he was an asshole. But if he was, then she was too, because none of their quarrels were one sided. She knew how to get back at him and push every button he had. Unfortunately, this often led to rather loud disagreements and immature banter. But never tears, not that he had seen. 

He’d have to apologize.

*****

Bellamy knocked on their door Saturday morning, holding a grocery bag. After no answer he knocked a little more persistently until he heard shuffling inside.

Clarke opened the door and squinted at him. She was wearing an oversized shirt that almost hit her knees and had a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her. He hair was sticking out of a low braid at about fifteen different directions and it looked like remnants of last night’s makeup was still around her eyes. 

She groaned when she saw him “Ugh. Why are you here?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes “Wow, no wonder nobody wants to hang out with you. Shouldn’t you have better manners with all the etiquette classes you probably took?”

“Bellamy,” she sighed, “I really don’t feel like dealing with this right now. Octavia is asleep. You’ll have to come back later.”

He mentally slapped himself. “No- uh- sorry. I’m… I’m actually here to talk to you.”

She stopped short of closing the door in his face and paused, apparently waiting for him to say more.

“I was a dick yesterday,” he started. “I didn’t know Collins was there and I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. I didn’t mean to make you so upset, I was only trying to mess with you, but I shouldn’t have taken it so far.” He finished with his head down and looked at her from underneath his curly hair. 

In several seconds, looks of confusion, sadness, understanding, and shock passed over her face. 

“And if you let me come in,” Bellamy carefully said, “I came prepared to make you and O pancakes.”

She still looked tired, something that he was not accustomed to seeing in her eyes. She opened the door a bit wider and stepped aside without saying anything. 

This was their dynamic. Fighting, half-accepted apologies and awkward silences until their next fight, he could deal with. Guilty feelings from making her cry, he could not. 

Inside of the apartment was a mess. He wasn’t surprised; he had lived with Octavia for 18 years before she went to college. This morning, though, it looked especially wrecked. Blankets, high heels, pints of ice cream, chip bags, were strewn around the living room. On the couch, was a lump of blankets with a tuft of dark brown hair sticking out of it. Bellamy silently pointed and mouthed to ask if he should be quiet and Clarke nodded, gesturing to the empty wine glasses that were on the counter. 

He set the bag down quietly and began to make the batter. She sat down on a kitchen stool and watched him closely, wondering why he bothered to show up. 

“Chocolate chips or blueberries?” He whispered to her. Instead of answering she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms at him. He chuckled, “Right. Why even ask?”

As he opened the bag of chocolate chips, Clarke decided to make some coffee. She hoped the smell would rouse Octavia and make this interaction less awkward. As many pancakes as Bellamy could make would not be enough for her to feel better. There was no way to fix her life at the moment and she was walking a tight rope of staying calm and breaking down every time she so much as dropped a spoon. 

The coffee seemed to do the trick and Octavia grumbled as she shifted on the couch. “What are you doing here?” She asked, upon seeing him in the kitchen. 

“I’m making an apology breakfast to both of you,” he answered simply, but his tone hinted at more. 

Octavia hummed in response. “I smell like cheap wine. I’m going to shower,” she announced as she shrugged her blankets off and slumped to the bathroom. 

Bellamy put two pancakes on a plate and took out the bottle of syrup that he had brought. He put the plate in front of Clarke and watched her as she poured what he considered to be an obscene amount of syrup on the already sugary breakfast. “Clarke?”

She glanced up and paused as he continued. “I really am sorry.”

She didn’t respond, instead looking down again and shoved a forkful of pancake into her mouth. 

“Clarke?”

She sighed and with a full mouth mumbled “What, Bellamy?”

“Why was yesterday so different than any of the other times we’ve fought? You’ve never broke down like that.”

She grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “ _not that you’ve seen_ ”, but he swallowed nervously as she continued. “I had a shitty week, okay? It was horrible.” She pushed hair out of her face trying to remain composed, “I’m sure Octavia will mention it to you soon, so I’ll just tell you that we might have to move. My mother has frozen my assets and I used a couple hundred dollars each month to pay rent on this place. That way I can add to savings instead of blowing my whole paycheck. But now that that’s gone, rent might be out of our budget.” 

“When did she cut you off?”

“Yesterday.” She stated, “Before I got to the bar.”

Bellamy looked down at the counter, “Shit.”

“Yep.”

He was running through the night in his head. He noticed that she seemed put off when she got there, but just assumed she was because of some poor person in her way. He had said he wanted to see her crown knocked off, but not like this. He knew of her mother, knew she was ruthless and controlling, but that was about it. Now, apparently, she was resorting to economic manipulation. What a desperate move. 

Bellamy was brought out of his thoughts by objects hitting the top of his head. In his haze, Clarke had gotten up and come to his side of the counter. She had taken the blueberries from the bag and was slowly tipping the cartoon so that they fell on him. 

“Okay,” he nodded and closed his eyes, “I deserve this.”

She went from slowly pouring to flipping the entire cartoon over and thumping all of them into his hair. Then, for good measure, she mashed the cartoon on his head like a hat. 

“Well,” Octavia declared from the entry to the kitchen, “I will not be cleaning this up.”


	2. The Purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is one to do when they have no way to express their frustration? Purge

Clarke was determined to get another job. She already worked as a TA at the university and part time teaching art to elementary school kids, but she refused to move. Her mom cutting her off from the money that her dad had left her meant that she needed to make at least a couple hundred dollars a month to keep affording her share of the rent and adding to the savings she had slowly been building. She had already applied to a part-time secretary position for a local law firm, a craft store needing a seasonal position filled, and a waitress at some shady diner. She was walking home feeling dejected when she saw another help wanted sign on the front of a night club. 

Bartender: Hiring Now

She debated for a minute. Did she want to be a bartender? She wasn’t crazy about it, but she’d done it before. She knew she could get good money from tips, and it was close to the T station so she could get home easily when working late. Only three hundred dollars. She could swing it. 

Once she got through the doors, she stopped cold. Glitter on the floor. _Oh no_. An ATM by the door. _Please no_. Posters of women on one of the front walls. _Don’t be a strip club, don’t be a strip club_. A pole in the center of the main room. _Damn it_. 

Again, she pondered if she really wanted the job. She wasn’t a stranger to strip clubs and she had no problem with women expressing their sexuality openly. She did, however, have a problem with the men that tended to frequent such establishments. The last thing she wanted to deal with a couple nights a week is some creep thinking that he was rocking her world by telling her that he wanted to see her on that pole. 

“ _Three hundred dollars, Clarke,_ ” She told herself took a deep breath. After a quick check of her makeup and a sneaky readjustment and push-up of her chest, she went inside. _“If some jerk is going to hire me based off how I look, then the least I can do is get him to let me work Saturday nights,”_ she thought.

The interview was easy. The manager- Roan something- took one look at her, asked her if she had ever worked a bar, had her make a few different drinks for him, and asked her when she could start. She was glad they were desperate, because she was able to work around her classes and other jobs. He started her off working Thursday and Friday with the potential to move to Saturdays since that’s when most customers came. 

Hours later, Clarke found herself buried under a pile of books. The end of April was always crazy. With finals and projects due, she had less time to herself than normal and all her focus was on trying to get ahead rather than fall behind. She was rudely interrupted by a shrill ringtone from somewhere across the room. 

She sighed when she saw who was calling. “Hello?”

“Clarke? Why haven’t I heard from you?”

She held her tongue. Her mother was hopeless. She had tried to mend their relationship over the years, but knowing that her mother would rather her potentially work herself to death rather than lose an argument was the last straw. 

“Excuse me? Why would you hear from me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You need to book your flight back. I assumed you would be conscious enough to check my schedule so that I could-“

“I’m not coming back,” Clarke interrupted. She was stunned. Not one week ago, her mother had told her that coming back to New York was to only way to continue having access to the inheritance she had gotten from Jake. _“It’s okay that you have a late start. Medical schools are very understanding, and they love passion from late bloomers. With your last name you’ll be a shoe in.”_ She had said over the phone, completely unaware that Clarke had no intention of med school. _“What do you mean you’re not going to med school? Your father didn’t leave you money for nothing! If you don’t apply for school then there is no reason you need that money!”_

Her mother was silent on the other line. It took several minutes before she spoke again, low and controlled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not coming back,” Clarke repeated. “I have told you many times that medical school is not in my future and it never will be. You can accept that or not, but I will not be coming back, and I will not be applying to a different school.”

Abby took a sharp inhale before she started, “Well. Clearly you have no need for the money that you were left. I hope you realize that you are leaving behind everything that is supporting you. When you realize that you can’t make it on your own, and you get tired of living in a dingy town as a ‘starving artist’, it will be here for you.”

Livid, Clarke open her mouth to retort. “You have no-“ She heard the line click dead. 

Clarke buried her head in her pillow and screamed as loud as she could. She needed to get her anger out of her before she exploded. She quickly pulled on running shoes and texted Octavia that she was going out. Putting in her headphones, she ran as soon as she got out the door.

*****

She could feel the wind burn on her cheeks stinging with dried tears when she opened the door. Octavia still wasn’t home, which she was thankful for; she was sure she looked like a mess. Attempting to clean herself up before her roommate popped back in, she was headed to the bathroom but stopped short. 

The couch. 

She shopped for the couch with her mother when she had first moved to Boston. She was double majoring in nursing and art, so Abby had wanted to furnish her apartment. 

She knew the couch was old. She also knew that the couch wasn’t a representation of their relationship, but the more she looked at it, the more she hated it. It was mocking her. A white couch with soft legs that flipped up at the ends. Silver details adorned the edges and the back of it had a pretentious point in the middle. 

_“It has to go,”_ she said.

Before she could second guess herself, Clarke dragged the couch from the living room to the front hall. Looking around her apartment, she noticed how many fixtures were still a reminder of her mother’s manipulation. Moving from room to room, she gathered vases, bookends, and decorations, dumping them all on the couch. From her bedroom, she was able to maneuver the nightstand through the doorway and she took pleasure in combing through her closet for stuck-up and useless “event” dresses. She was on the second round of purging her closet when she heard the door bang.

“Clarke?! Are you here?” Octavia called from the hall. 

She saw the door partially open and pinned by the couch. “I’m here. Give me a second.” She muttered as she dragged the couch and everything on it out of the way. 

Octavia swung the door open and widened her eyes. Clarke saw Bellamy over her shoulder making a similar expression. For the first time in several hours Clarke looked around the apartment. It looked as if a tornado swept through. There were clothes strewn about, rugs pulled out of the way, and shelves that were half empty. 

Octavia looked at Clarke, “Bad day?” Clarke hardly got a chance to nod before she was pulled into her friends arms for a tight squeeze. “Okay… So what’s the plan?”

Clarke smiled, once again grateful to have someone so loyal and up for anything in her life. “I figured I could sell this stuff. Buy a cheaper couch and save some money.”

“Does this mean I get to get rid of all those ridiculous dresses you have out of your closet?” Octavia beamed.

“I’ve already gotten half of them. I was about to get more.”

Octavia squealed as she skipped to Clarke’s room. Bellamy had watched the exchange while scanning over the apartment. “Wow princess... Finally seeing how lavish your lifestyle is?” He asked.

Clarke was aware that he wasn’t asking it in a mean way, but it made her uncomfortable, nonetheless. She stayed quiet and didn’t respond, leaving an awkward air in the room. Luckily Clarke didn’t have to stay quiet for long. Octavia came running back in the room. “Alright. This mess can wait. Jasper’s having a party and we’ve got to get ready. Bellamy,” she pointed at him, “go home, and come back in an hour to pick us up. I’m wearing heels and I don’t want my feet tired at the start of the night. Clarke, come with me because I have a very important question.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and did as instructed, telling them to lock the door after he left. Octavia pulled Clarke to her room where several dresses had already been pulled out and laid on her bed. “So,” she started, “I have been living with you for over three years, and I have _never_ seen you wear this beauty.”

Clarke knew what she was talking about before she held up the dress. “That doesn’t sound like a question.”

“Um… My question is _why not?_ This is gorgeous!”

Clarke was regretting allowing her to have free range of her clothes. The dress in question was not gorgeous. It was skimpy. Incredibly small and shorter than anything else Clarke owned. She had bought it when she was 19, as a “little black dress” to wear in college. About a week afterwards, she decided that the dress was made for a barbie doll and got one that was longer and looser so that she didn’t flash her panties to everyone at parties. 

“Put it back, O. I am definitely not wearing it tonight.”

Octavia sighed dramatically and chose not to argue. “You better get ready, Clarke. We only have an hour.”

*****

The party was loud. All of Jasper and Monty’s parties were loud. They lived away from downtown and had one level of a triple decker. Their neighbors were cool and didn’t mind to party, so there was no need to watch the noise level. Clarke was embarrassed to say that they had only been there an hour, she had only had a couple shots, and she was already yawning. 

“Clarke!” She heard over the music. Monty was waving her over and holding a bottle of something. “You remember my neighbor, Lincoln?” 

Clarke nodded and waved. “Hi, Lincoln. Good to see you again.”

A new song came on and Monty cheered while pouring them all a shot. 

Half an hour later, Clarke could say that she was swaying. She was on the balcony getting fresh air away from so many people when Bellamy and Murphy came out. 

“Tired, princess?” She heard Murphy say. 

She opened her eyes without realizing that they were closed. “A little. It’s been a long day.”

He snorted, “Bellamy says you decided to trash all your shit.”

With a small smile she raised her eyebrows “He’s not totally wrong. I was doing a deep clean after my job search.”

At this Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah? Did you find one?”

“I did actually,” she said rolling her eyes, “I’m a… server.” She finished her statement awkwardly. There was no way she would be able to say bartender without all of her friends asking where, and there was absolutely no way that she would tell them she worked at a strip club. 

“A server?” Bellamy was outright laughing now, and something about it sent a spark of anger through Clarke. 

She pushed herself off the railing and went towards the pair of them. “Is something funny?”

When she got closer, she saw his eyes were red. “Well,” he said through laughter, “Its just that to be a server you have to serve people. The princess has to serve the poor commoner,” he finished with a high pitched voice and an exaggerated curtsy that caused Murphy to also crack up.

“I’m well aware of what my job will entail, Bellamy,” she said stone-faced. 

He slowly calmed down and rolled his eyes, “Then I guess I don’t need to tell you that you’ll also have to be nice to people.”

“Yeah, bitch face doesn’t get many tips,” Murphy chimed in. 

Bellamy winced at his words and shrugged nodding his head. “Bitch face?” Clarke began, “That’s funny, because I’m perfectly capable of managing my bitch face when I’m around people that are actually decent human beings.” She was annoyed. She knew her anger spiked easily, but to basically call her a bitch in the middle of a semi-civil conversation was completely uncalled for.

Rolling his eyes and turning away, Bellamy responded, “Why are you still here then? You’re clearly tired. If we’re not decent human beings, then get out of here. You’re ruining my crossfade.” 

She was going to respond. She felt like yelling, but Clarke realized he was right. “Whatever, Bellamy. Just get the hell out of my way.” She moved past him, tipping his drink as she pushed. 

“Jesus, Clarke. Watch out!” He yelled at her, “That’s definitely going to cut down on your tips.”

Clarke had kept her mouth shut at the bar. She had tried to keep her mouth shut today, but that rage she had felt after she got off the phone with her mother came bubbling back up. “You know what, Bellamy? I don’t care what you think. Make fun of me. Call me a bitch. Tell me I’m horrible at my job. You don’t even know me! I’ve been O’s roommate for years and you have never once looked past my money. Now, all of a sudden, I don’t have it and you still choose to be a dick to me! What do you want from me? What can I possibly do to get you off my back? I have enough people in my life that are trying to make me feel bad about myself, and I don’t need another! Either stop being a jerk to me for no reason or stop fucking talking to me because I’m tired of it! I can’t even have one night of fun without you coming out of nowhere and trying to ruin it! If you really hate me that much, then do us both a favor and get away from me.” 

She finished yelling and shoved him away from her before turning around and storming inside. She didn’t look back to see his stunned expression. On her way to the door, she caught Octavia’s eye. She was chatting with Monty’s neighbor and winked at Clarke. 

Clarke half waved, pointed to herself, and mimicked texting with her thumbs. 

Downing another shot before she left, she paused in the kitchen. She texted Octavia: _I’m heading home. I won’t wait up ;P_

Bellamy made it back in the house to see blonde hair ducking out the front door. Closing his eyes and shaking his head he decided that tonight would be perfect to forget. He moved to the makeshift bar and poured several shots, taking them in rapid succession. He found Jasper and took another hit off his blunt before heading to a hot girl that had been making eyes at him all night. 

“What’s your name?” He asked her as he approached. 

She grabbed him, trying to use the music as an excuse to be closer to him. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Roma” She told him in a loud cheery voice.

“Would you like a drink, Roma?” 

She nodded with her eyes on his lips. _Yeah,_ he thought, _let’s forget tonight._


End file.
